


Daring

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Culmination [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Drinking Games, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Morning After, Mutual Pining, No Plot/Plotless, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Kissing, Strip Poker, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yamamoto’s been smiling for what feels like hours, a little flushed and a little giddy, and the chorus of laughter and shouts and conversation is enough to keep his adrenaline humming, keep him focused on what he’s doing when otherwise he might find a chair and let himself drift off into a doze." Yamamoto plays a game, and Gokudera gets pulled into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Challenge

Yamamoto thinks he might be a little bit drunk.

It’s hard to be completely certain. The sound of the party around him is a little hazy, but that might just be his attention to the game at hand, and he might be laughing a little more than usual but it’s hard to be sure, when everything seems so worth his amusement. He’s been smiling for what feels like hours, a little flushed and a little giddy, and the chorus of laughter and shouts and conversation is enough to keep his adrenaline humming, keep him focused on what he’s doing when otherwise he might find a chair and let himself drift off into a doze.

“Truth,” Kyoko says, for the fourth time since they started. This show of cautiousness draws a groan from Haru, an incoherent protest from Ryohei, a laugh from Yamamoto.

“It is Truth or Dare,” Kyoko points out in her defense as Haru leans in closer to her to pout. “I get to choose each time, right?”

“But it’s no fun if all you ever do is Truth!” Haru is protesting. From the pitch of her voice and the soft stubbornness of Kyoko’s this will take a while to resolve, the now-familiar dialogue not enough to hold Yamamoto’s drifting attention. He leans back on his hands instead, glancing out over the rest of the room: Tsuna curled up asleep in a corner, Bianchi hovering over some worrying concoction at the counter. Chrome disappeared hours ago, in spite of Kyoko and Haru’s pleas for her to stay, and Dino and Hibari and Gokudera are leaning in over an array of cards, keeping up the apparently vicious game of strip poker they started some time ago, at Dino’s recommendation.

Yamamoto suspects the cocktail the blond started the night with to be the reason he thought playing against Hibari was a good idea. As it stands Dino is down to boxers and socks, the rest of his clothes scattered around him as evidence to his losses, and Hibari hasn’t so much as removed his coat from his shoulders. Gokudera is doing better than Dino, or maybe just had more by way of accessories to strip off; he’s still in possession of his jeans, at least, and his t-shirt, though he’s scowling at his cards like that’s about to change.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses as Yamamoto watches, flings his cards aside like they’re the bombs he so favors. “I fold.”

Dino offers a sigh of relief; Hibari has no reaction at all, doesn’t even look up from his cards as Gokudera gets to his feet. Gokudera’s reaching for the front of his jeans before Yamamoto realizes what he’s doing, looks away as fast as he can but not quickly enough to avoid the flush of self-consciousness as he realizes he was staring.

“Fine then,” Haru’s huffing as Yamamoto brings his attention back to the girls. “Tell the truth: Are you in love with someone?”

Kyoko ducks her head, the pink that stains her cheeks giving her answer for her, and Ryohei is just starting to demand that she “Answer the question!” with the gruff tone of older-brother protectiveness he always takes with Kyoko when another voice comes over Yamamoto’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re playing this,” Gokudera groans. Yamamoto doesn’t turn, doesn’t trust himself to stay composed, but he can feel adrenaline spark all down his spine, jolt his relaxed pose into stiff self-consciousness all at once. Gokudera’s hand brushes Yamamoto’s shoulder as he sits, the contact accidental and superheated, and Yamamoto can’t help but glance sideways at the other boy. He’s flushed red all over his face, embarrassment clear in spite of the unconcern he’s feigning with the sprawling angle of his legs, but for once Yamamoto can’t focus on his face. There’s too much pale skin on display, the whole impossible length of Gokudera’s legs bare all the way up the curve of his calf and the line of his thigh to the edge of his boxers, the fabric sliding up higher than Yamamoto feels is anything like decent.

He drags his gaze away, suddenly very glad for the disguise granted by his own jeans, while Haru chokes a protest at Gokudera’s half-dressed state and Ryohei laughs at this proof of his loss. It’s only Kyoko’s declaration of “Yes,” that pulls Haru’s attention away, Kyoko’s insistence that “You can ask who next time I choose Truth,” her defense against further inquiry, and Yamamoto is grinning again when Haru turns her attention to him.

“Truth or Dare?” she demands, the fire of denied curiosity in her eyes promising vengeance on him regardless of which he chooses.

Yamamoto considers the options, the likelihood of getting pinned down regarding his own interests if he says Truth versus the various unpleasant possibilities of a Dare. In the end it’s Haru’s stare that decides him, the attention in her eyes promising no loopholes at all if she asks a question.

“Dare.”

Her focus wavers for a moment, convincing Yamamoto he made the right decision in dodging the other option. He takes a breath of relief while she considers the room, contemplates the dangerous possibility of Bianchi in the kitchen and the more deadly option of Hibari across the room.

Then she blinks, and looks at Gokudera, and Yamamoto has a brief moment of intuitive panic before Haru folds her arms, and tips her head back, and declares “I dare you to kiss Gokudera.”

Yamamoto can feel himself go scarlet, a rush of heat burning over his cheeks as he looks involuntarily at Gokudera. The other boy is staring at him, as white as Yamamoto is red, and for a brief heartbeat no one moves or speaks.

Then “I don’t--” Yamamoto starts, and “ _Hey_ , I’m not  _playing_ ,” Gokudera finishes, and Gokudera is hissing at Haru and Yamamoto is looking down at his hands, trying to restrain the flaring self-consciousness over his face and the rush of adrenaline in his blood.

“It doesn’t matter,” Haru is saying. “It’s a Dare, it could have been him doing something to anyone.”

“Why  _me_?” Gokudera snaps. “There’s  _everyone else_  here you could have--”

“I won’t,” Yamamoto cuts in, and the circle goes silent. When he looks up everyone is staring at him, Haru’s eyes wide with surprise and Gokudera’s forehead creased with the lingering irritation he had been turning on the girl. Yamamoto pulls his mouth into a smile, offers a laugh. “Gokudera doesn’t want to play, let me drink something Bianchi made instead.”

He’s expecting Haru to put up the resistance, to point out that it’s against the rules of the game to refuse once he’s taken the Dare. He isn’t expecting it to be Gokudera’s voice that hisses an answer and pulls Yamamoto’s attention to the other boy’s face.

“ _Fuck_  you,” Gokudera’s spitting. He’s furious, now, the white of shock on his skin giving way to a flush of familiar anger instead. “Don’t make this  _my_  fault when you just want to chicken out on your own stupid Dare.”

Yamamoto can’t look away from the sparkling green in Gokudera’s eyes. Even his laugh comes out shaky and uncertain under that force. “I agreed to play the game, I’m willing to do it.”

“ _Fine_.” Gokudera’s glaring, now, his chin tipped down into the angle of reckless competitiveness Yamamoto is all too familiar with by now. “Prove it.”

Yamamoto can feel his heart pounding wildly against his chest, is sure everyone in the room must be able to hear the rapidfire sound of adrenaline rushing through him. “Okay,” he says, his agreement met with a shocked inhale from Kyoko, a squeak of reaction from Haru. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” Gokudera growls, turns to brace his hand on the floor so he can twist in towards Yamamoto. “You won’t do it, I know you won’t.”

Yamamoto doesn’t have an answer for that for a minute. He’s not actually sure he has the words for anything in his life anymore, can’t quite believe this is actually going to result in the outcome it’s heading towards, isn’t sure he even  _wants_  that conclusion, not like this. But Gokudera’s eyes are flashing a challenge, and his lips are set in disbelief, and when Yamamoto looks at his mouth the familiar ache of want that rushes through him is desperate enough to override any compunctions.

“Okay,” he says, and then he’s leaning in, crossing over the gap that feels enormous, all of a sudden. He’s thought about it idly before, just leaning in and stealing the heat off Gokudera’s mouth, but the distance never seemed so huge before, with the room going quieter and quieter as he gets closer.

“You won’t,” Gokudera insists again. Yamamoto thinks his voice might be shaking, can’t be sure for the thunder of his pulse in his ears and the tight-winding tension in his limbs. “You’re going to stop.”

Yamamoto swallows hard. He can feel Gokudera’s breath against his lips, the catch of the other boy’s breathing at least as choppy as his own. He can’t breathe, he’s not sure he’s moving at all, but Gokudera is still talking, his words falling softer as Yamamoto gets nearer.

“There’s no way,” and it’s almost a whisper, sticking in the back of his throat. “You’re gonna cave, you--” and Yamamoto must have still been moving after all, because his lips brush against Gokudera’s and the other’s words fall into dead silence.

Yamamoto’s eyes are still open; he can see the line of silver hair against Gokudera’s cheek, the shift of his eyelashes as he blinks, as he breathes a shocked exhale against Yamamoto’s skin. Yamamoto’s heart is still going impossibly fast, waiting for some grand resolution instead of this tentative brush of lips, more delicate than any of the number of times he’s touched Gokudera before.

Then Gokudera hisses something unintelligible, tips in to close their lips flush against each other, and Yamamoto doesn’t mean to whimper, doesn’t mean to shut his eyes, but both those things happen at once, like some unused reflex in him in suddenly coming to the forefront. All his tension is melting out of him, he’s leaning in far harder than he intended, desperate response to the active contact of Gokudera’s mouth, and Gokudera is--Gokudera is pushing right back, the sound in his throat turning into a purr of vibration at Yamamoto’s lips. There’s fingers at Yamamoto’s shoulder, a hand shoving up against the back of his neck to hold him in place, and Yamamoto’s balance is falling back, Gokudera forcing him back by sheer enthusiasm. Yamamoto doesn’t  _decide_  to open his mouth; it just happens, instinct or some unvoiced noise of surprise, and Gokudera’s taking that too, licking against his tongue and the roof of his mouth like he knows what he’s doing, like he’s deliberately trying to sap all Yamamoto’s coherency at once. He tastes hot, the burn of alcohol fresh on his tongue, and Yamamoto can’t breathe and can’t remember why he ever needed air in the first place.

There is some sound coming from around him, ambient gasps, a muffled exclamation of “Oh my god” in a feminine voice, “ _Holy shit_ ” in Ryohei’s lower tone, but Yamamoto doesn’t react and neither does Gokudera. Gokudera’s arching in closer, now, both his hands pressed in against Yamamoto’s hair and rocking forward off his knees, until when Yamamoto’s hand bumps the other’s hip he moves all at once and suddenly he’s on Yamamoto’s lap, the heat of his bare legs fitting against Yamamoto’s hips and his full weight pressing in against the other’s thighs.

Yamamoto has no idea what happens with the game, after that, isn’t even sure it continues at all after he effectively drops out. He’s too caught by the friction of Gokudera’s mouth, the skid of Gokudera’s teeth catching at his lip and Gokudera’s tongue sliding over his, far more drunk on unexpected resolution to years of pining than the alcohol could ever have made him.


	2. Caught

Tsuna wakes up on the floor of the living room.

At first he’s just disoriented. Then he sits up to look around the room and achieves a state of brief confusion, rapidly seguing into faint alarm. He can remember the first part of the night -- Dino pouring some brightly-colored liquid into tiny shot glasses and offering them around, Chrome escaping from the room as soon as a reasonable excuse presented itself, Kyoko smiling every time Tsuna caught her eye. It had been fun, until he had laid down for what had felt like a few minutes and awoken to find nearly everyone gone and the sun up over the horizon. Most of the guests are nowhere to be seen, though Haru and Kyoko are curled up with Bianchi on the couch, and Dino is lying in the corner with what looks like Hibari’s jacket less the armband thrown over him and nothing else, as far as Tsuna can tell. That’s it, beyond empty glasses on every available surface, a scattering of playing cards in a heap in the corner, and a red vest abandoned near the doorway with no sign of its owner anywhere in the room.

Tsuna gets to his feet carefully, wary of lingering dizziness, but his balance is steady, and no one shifts at the faint sound of him standing and stretching. In fact the room stays silent, so deadly still Tsuna feels like an intruder into the sleep of the others, and he only briefly considers waking them before discarding that idea. He doesn’t really want confirmation of what Dino may or may not be wearing, anyway, and the warm morning glow of the sunlight promises a short-term distraction, if nothing else. Besides, he knows who that vest belongs to, and Yamamoto lives close enough that the walk over should be a good way to wake up while giving everyone else a chance to sleep a little longer.

It’s only a few blocks. By the time Tsuna is coming through the gate to the other boy’s apartment he feels far more alert thanks to both the warmth of the sunlight and the mild exertion of the exercise, and when he knocks at the familiar door it’s before he has a chance to think that the other might not be completely awake himself yet. But Yamamoto is usually up far earlier than Tsuna, out for a run or baseball practice or something else before the sun is even fully up, and besides the unintelligible sounds from inside says that the other is on his way to the door. So Tsuna waits, even when seconds turn into a minute, feeling more guilty as the time passes but locked into his position by his thoughtless knock.

He’s ready to apologize, has the words all ready on his lips when he hears footsteps approaching the door, the sound of the latch turning. He’s just opening his mouth to speak, to offer embarrassed apology, when he looks up into  _not_  the face he was expecting and the thought dies into shocked silence.

“ _Tenth_?” Gokudera blurts. His hand is still on the handle, his eyes so wide with shock Tsuna has the insane idea he somehow showed up at the wrong apartment by mistake. But Gokudera lives farther away, and in the opposite direction, there is no way even Tsuna could have mixed up the two locations.

“Gokudera?” Tsuna blinks, takes in the tangle of Gokudera’s hair, the familiar logo on the same shirt he was wearing last night, the jeans collecting inches of extra fabric around his ankles. “What are you doing here?”

“Be right there!” Yamamoto’s voice comes from farther inside the apartment. Tsuna looks out over Gokudera’s shoulder, down the as-yet-unoccupied hallway, and suddenly an explanation presents itself to him, forms itself from the crimson blush spreading over Gokudera’s face and the undeniable fact of Gokudera’s presence here at Yamamoto’s apartment.

“ _Oh_ ,” Tsuna blurts, and Gokudera takes a sharp inhale, like he’s bracing himself to offer some kind of an explanation.

Then “Sorry, sorry!” and Yamamoto comes around the corner from the bedroom, pulling a pair of pajama pants up over his hips. “I couldn’t find my jeans.” He steps forward, no trace of embarrassment at Gokudera opening his door for him and no suggestion of more than pleased surprise at seeing Tsuna. “Yo, Tsuna!”

Tsuna just stares. Yamamoto is usually cheery, ready with a smile or a laugh in even the most dire of situations, but Tsuna’s never seen him look like this before. He’s  _glowing_ , a smile spreading out across his face like he’s forgotten how to restrain the expression, his eyes drifting off Tsuna’s face to cling to Gokudera’s hair, going so soft Tsuna feels abruptly like he’s intruding. He has a shirt on, actually looks more pulled-together than Gokudera himself, but when he lifts his head to look back up at Tsuna the sunlight catches off the tan of his skin, highlights a whole mess of bruised kiss-marks up against his shoulder, and one just against the pulse point at his neck with what looks like the imprint of teeth surrounding it.

“Oh my god,” Tsuna says. “Did--are you two  _dating_?”

Gokudera makes a strangled sound, not protest as much as a vocalization of the pure red on display all across his face, and Yamamoto laughs, bright delight warmer than anything Tsuna has ever heard from him before.

“I mean,” Tsuna backtracks, looking away from the ridiculous softness in Yamamoto’s face to Gokudera’s blush. “Not that I mind.” He offers the vest, belatedly, holds it out until Gokudera reaches out to take it from him. “Uhm. Congratulations?” That sounds too confused, undermines his sincere relief that Yamamoto and Gokudera have finally worked out whatever was between them. Unless-- “Have you  _been_  dating?”

“ _No_ ,” Gokudera says, response so instant it sounds like a wail. “Not...before.”

“Oh.” Tsuna blinks again, looks from Gokudera’s blush to Yamamoto’s glow and back again. “Well. Congratulations, then.” Self-consciousness runs up against surprise, the both spilling up his throat at once in an awkward laugh. “That actually explains a lot.”

That brings Gokudera’s head up. “ _What_?”

Tsuna lifts his hands in defense, takes an involuntary step back. “I mean. Nevermind, just...I’m happy for you!”

“Wait,” Gokudera says. “What do you  _mean_?”

Yamamoto steps forward, his hand coming up to brush against Gokudera’s shoulder, and Tsuna can see the other’s attention fracture, his head coming up to stare at Yamamoto’s face. For once there’s no insult on Gokudera’s lips, none of the shoving resistance this contact would have brought about even the night before; he just goes silent, staring at Yamamoto like all his thoughts have stalled silence while the other grins and ducks his head in Tsuna’s direction.

“Thanks, Tsuna.” His hand comes up, a wave at least as sheepish as it is appreciative. “We’ll see you.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Gokudera starts to protest, still staring at Yamamoto, but Tsuna knows to take an opportunity when he can. He’s ducking out of sight, darting down the hall back to the main street before Gokudera can realize he’s gone and come after him with demands for more explanation.

Apparently he missed more the night before than he thought. Still. With Yamamoto looking so blissful, and even Gokudera gone soft and warm under the flushed embarrassment of getting caught out, Tsuna can’t muster anything but a grin as he makes his way back to wake someone who can bring him up to speed.


End file.
